Black Powder (28 page)

‘I heard him.' The old woman turned her gaze on the tutor and thrust out a bony hand. ‘Give me the letter.'

Mandrake slid it inside the sleeve of his gown. ‘Forgive me, Lady Magdalen' – he gave a sly smile – ‘but I must keep it safe for my master. He will be here directly. Once he has read it himself, I am sure he will be only too happy to reveal its contents to you.'

The old lady banged her ebony cane on the flagstones. ‘Ungrateful wretch! After everything my grandson has done for you.'

Mandrake's eyes flashed gold in the candlelight. ‘It was the least he could do when your own husband did my father such a terrible wrong!'

‘What are you talking about, man?'

‘Having trouble remembering, eh?' Mandrake shook his head and sighed. ‘That is just like you privileged folk. Well, let me remind you, My Lady. 'Twas the winter of eighty-two. The crops had failed again and my father could not pay the rent he owed. Your husband threw him from the land he farmed, even though he had a wife and five children to feed.'

The Viscountess pursed her lips and frowned. ‘I don't remember the case. But my husband was not a cruel man. I am sure he would have given your father more than one chance to make good his debt. And when all is said and done, a man must pay his dues.'

‘Indeed.' The tutor stabbed a finger at her. ‘And now it is your turn.'

Rat-tat-a-tat
.

Tom spun round knocking Jago's lantern against his leg.

Mandrake gave a whining chuckle. ‘That will be my master, come to collect the evidence.' Reaching inside the sleeve of his gown, he darted to the door.

‘Stop him!' cried Cressida.

Tom leapt towards Mandrake and snatched at the back of his gown. The tutor swung round and shoved him aside, then turned and flung the door open. The candle flame flickered in the draught. A figure dressed all in black stepped quickly inside.

‘Welcome, master. You have come at just the right time. I have uncovered a whole den-full of traitors for you.'

The newcomer's pale eyes shone out from the gap between the brim of his hat and the muffler which covered
his nose and mouth.

‘What is the meaning of this?' There was a swish of velvet and the click of a stick on stone.

‘My Lady.' The man pushed past Mandrake. He lifted his hat, slid the muffler from his face and gave a stiff bow.

Hunt. Tom gasped. So it
was
him Mandrake had met in secret outside Cowdray's walls.

The Viscountess jerked up her head and fixed Tom with a sharp stare. ‘Do you know this man?'

‘Yes . . . I . . . er . . .'

‘The name is Solomon Wiseman, My Lady. Although' – the man glanced back at him – ‘the boy knows me by a different name. I—'

‘Silence!' The Viscountess turned to Tom. ‘Let Master Garnett tell me in his own words.'

He hesitated.

‘Go on, boy.' Her voice had a softer edge to it now.

He gripped the lantern handle and sucked in a breath. ‘He . . . he said his name was George Hunt. At first I thought he was part of the plot the Falcon' – he bit his lips – ‘I mean Fawkes and the others had planned. The one to kidnap Cecil.'

‘You mean Robert Cecil?' The Viscountess's forehead creased into a hundred tiny furrows.

‘Yes. But then this man – Mister Hunt – he told me Fawkes had captured Cressida and they were planning something much worse.'

‘Worse?' The old lady widened her eyes. ‘What do you mean?'

Wiseman cleared his throat. ‘A plot to kill the King, My Lady.'

Mandrake scurried forwards. ‘Yes, and thanks to some new evidence, I know what they are planning, sir. I—'

‘Enough, knave!' The Viscountess fixed him with a steely grey stare.

Wiseman gave Mandrake a brisk nod. The tutor hissed and took a step back.

‘I am glad Master Garnett here took my advice, rescued his cousin and got away while he could. If he hadn't, it would have been the worse for him.'

The Viscountess's frown deepened. She turned back to Tom. ‘Explain yourself, boy. How did you come to be mixed up in all of this?'

He chewed on his lip. Wiseman and Mandrake might know about the stash of gunpowder in the tunnel at Cowdray, but they had to prove for certain it belonged to Fawkes. As long as he didn't tell them that's where he'd first met him and he could work out a way of getting hold of the letter, his uncle – and Father – still had a chance. He glanced at Mandrake. His long, pale fingers hovered close to his sleeve. Any moment now, he'd pull the letter out and—

The sharp rap of the Viscountess's cane on the flagstones made him jump. ‘I am waiting . . .'

He had to think of something and quickly. He licked his lips. ‘Well . . . er . . . after you locked me in my room—'

The Viscountess's mouth pinched into a hard line. ‘A punishment well deserved!'

‘Yes . . . well, after that I decided to run away. So I climbed down the drainpipe and sneaked out through the front gate. I was on my way back to Portsmouth when I bumped into Fawkes outside a tavern.'

He flashed a glance at the Viscountess and Wiseman. From the look on their faces, they believed him so far. He took another breath and carried on. ‘Fawkes offered to take me to London and introduce me to his friends. He and Mister Cat said if I helped them dig a tunnel under Cecil's palace so they could capture him, they would make sure the King granted Father a pardon.' His chest tightened. ‘I thought he was my friend. But . . . but he lied.' He bit his lip and stared down at the lantern. Jago's shadow flickered behind it like a tiny grey ghost.

There was a rustle of silk as Cressida joined him. She laced her fingers through his then turned to face the Viscountess. ‘And they kept me prisoner in a filthy attic, Granny, and gave me some foul-tasting potion to drink to keep me quiet. But then Tom found me and we were going to escape except that bully Browne . . .'

‘Enough!' The Viscountess raised her cane. She narrowed her eyes and turned back to Wiseman. ‘And to what do we owe the honour of your visit at such a late hour, sir?'

Wiseman smoothed a stray wisp of yellow hair back from his forehead and frowned. ‘As my man here may have told you, I have reason to believe, My Lady, that Lord Montague is complicit in this plot, or at least has some knowledge of it.'

The Viscountess fixed Wiseman with an iron-hard stare. ‘We Montagues are the King's most loyal servants. Surely you do not believe the words of this . . . this snake-in-the-grass.' She jabbed the end of her cane at the tutor.

Mandrake cleared his throat. ‘I'm afraid I have proof to the contrary, sir.' He slid between her and Wiseman and wormed his fingers inside the sleeve of his gown.

‘No!' Cressida let out a scream.

Tom's stomach shrivelled inside him. He had to act now, or it would be too late.

Chapter Thirty-eight

T
he lantern jiggled against Tom's fingers.

Jago! It was as if the little mouse was signalling to him. Suddenly he knew what to do. He flipped the lantern door open and scooped him up.

You can do it, boy!

He gave Jago's head a quick stroke and set him running across the floor. The mouse scurried towards Mandrake's slippered feet. He paused for a moment when he reached them and sniffed the air, then darted up the side of the tutor's gown.

‘Here it is, sir.' Mandrake pulled the letter free with a final flourish. ‘Arrghh!' He staggered backwards, fingers clawing at the folds of his gown. ‘What witchery is this?' A flash of white fur shot across his chest, jumped on to his shoulder and scooted up a strand of his greasy black hair. ‘Get it off me! Get it off me!' He batted his hands about his
head as if trying to swat a giant fly. The square of parchment fell from his grasp and spun through the air.

Tom dropped the lantern, leapt forwards and snatched it up. ‘Quick, get the candle!'

Cressida whirled round and tore it from the holder.

He grabbed it from her and shoved the letter into the heart of the flame.

‘Sir! The evidence!' Mandrake lunged towards him.

‘No you don't!' Cressida hung on to the tutor's sleeve.

‘Why, you—' Ripping free of her grasp, Mandrake dashed at Tom. He didn't spot Jago's lantern until it was too late. He tripped and spun backwards, colliding with Wiseman, then thudded to the floor with a groan.

Wiseman stumbled but managed to right himself. He clenched his jaw and glared at Tom. ‘Give it to me, boy.'

Tom glanced at the parchment. It was already half burnt. He backed away, shaking his head.

‘Don't be a fool! This isn't a game.' Wiseman swiped at the burning letter, but Tom was quicker. He twisted away and bolted for the stairs.

The spy made to follow, but the Viscountess blocked him. ‘You have come far enough!' She rammed the knob of her cane against his chest. ‘Unless, that is, you would knock an old lady down?'

Wiseman's jaw twitched. He clenched his fists and looked up the stairs to where Tom now stood, holding the parchment over the banisters.

He let the flames lick across its surface destroying all trace of the writing, then released his grip. The remains of
the parchment spiralled down like a black and orange moth, landing at Wiseman's feet.

For a moment everyone was silent. Then a loud squeak pierced the air. A pink nose and a pair of ruby red eyes peered out from beneath Mandrake's left ear.

Tom jumped to attention. ‘I'm coming, Jago!' He hurtled down the stairs and sprinted over to where the unconscious tutor lay. Bending down, he stretched out his palm and let the mouse crawl on to it. ‘Well done, little friend!' He lifted him up and pressed his nose against Jago's. ‘I don't know what I'd do without you.' He brushed a finger against his whiskers then stowed him safely inside his waist-pouch.

A tight smile flashed across Wiseman's thin, chapped lips. ‘You are blessed with a pair of clever grandchildren, My Lady.' He picked up his hat and dusted it off with the back of his sleeve.

Viscountess Montague shot a glance at Tom and Cressida and jutted out her chin. ‘Why would you doubt it? They have Montague blood flowing in their veins.'

‘That's as may be.' Wiseman's expression changed. ‘But I am afraid their cleverness will not be enough to prevent me from arresting Lord Montague. During the time of my man's employment at your grandson's country house, he has gathered enough other evidence to incriminate him. Of course it is a pity you have destroyed the absolute proof, Master Garnett.' He flashed him a look. ‘But as soon as I bring Mister Mandrake round, I have no doubt he will make clear the true nature of the plot against the King, and
Lord Montague's part in it.'

‘No!' Tom jumped between Wiseman and the Viscountess. ‘You've got it all wrong. My uncle has nothing to do with it. And anyway, we've stopped them!'

Wiseman raised a pale eyebrow. ‘What? How?'

‘The gunpowder. They put it in a cellar below where the King and Parliament are going to meet.'

The spy gripped his shoulder. ‘Go on, boy!'

‘Fawkes is going to set a match to it, but it won't work because we soaked it with river water.' Tom bit his lip. Perhaps he should have kept quiet about the Falcon. After all, if the water had done its job, he and the gunpowder were both harmless now.

Wiseman's eyes widened.

‘It's true.' Cressida leapt to Tom's side. ‘I tried to tell you earlier. That bully Harry Browne knocked us out and took us to a cellar below the House of Lords. It was stacked full of gunpowder barrels. He left us there to die, but Tom found some pails and we went down to the river, and he nearly drowned, but I saved him and—'

‘Well, well.' Wiseman's eyes flicked shut. He murmured something under his breath then snapped them open again. ‘And now, you and your cousin are going to show me where your Falcon is perched so we may stop him from making his strike.'

‘But I told you, the gunpowder's ruined.'

‘That doesn't matter. If we catch him in the act, it will be more than enough to hang him and all his traitor friends.' Wiseman's eyes narrowed to two silver slits. ‘And if the King
finds out what part you both played in thwarting the plot, it may just be enough to save Lord Montague – and Master Garnett's father too.'

Tom's heart jolted. Save Father? Did the spy really mean it?

‘Now, if My Lady will excuse me, we have some unfinished business across the river.' Before the Viscountess could reply, Wiseman pulled on his hat, tugged his muffler back over his face and steered Tom and Cressida towards the door.

As they stepped outside into the chill night air, he raised his hand. A pair of guards sprang from the shadows. ‘Take them to the river. And be quick about it.'

The guards nodded. They marched them out through the courtyard, then back past the church and down to the river stairs. Two wherries bobbed against the bottom step.